


Dream a little dream of me

by geniusonceayear



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Breaking and Entering, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Nightmares, Post-Resident Evil 4, Pre-Damnation, that night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 02:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniusonceayear/pseuds/geniusonceayear
Summary: It's not so difficult now to accept the fact that he's become an itch she can't scratch, that she wants him, despite the alarms blaring in her head and warning her that this is a dangerous enemy she can't fight with a gun or clever wits.





	Dream a little dream of me

**Author's Note:**

> As always, never-ending thanks to [tenienteross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ada/pseuds/tenienteross) for her beta reading, her cherleading and for being the biggest supporter ever ♥ (I would have never finished this without her ideas and input)

_(A dream is an answer to a question  
_ _we haven’t yet learned how to ask)_

 

If there's something Ada hasn't forgotten about the Raccoon City disaster is the smell. That rotten, acrid stench that didn't leave her for days, making her remember in vivid detail that nightmare she would rather forget.

That's the first thing she thinks when she finds herself back in the corridors of the police station, water, bodies and blood everywhere. _It smells the fucking same._

She is barefoot and the cold is creeping up her body, making her shiver and her teeth chatter. Leon, walking a few steps ahead, signals to the right with a gesture of his head and puts his index finger over his lips, warning her to stay silent. His hair is longer and he's not wearing the RPD uniform anymore, but other than that he looks exactly the same.

Ada nods and clutches the gun in her hand. She's almost out of bullets, only one left. Her thigh is aching terribly and her shoulder, where Annette Birkin shot her, burns, and she is under the impression that she should be bothered by this, but somehow she isn't.

She keeps moving forward, staying as close to the walls as she can while ignoring the scratches and howling that come from the other side of the closed doors, and stops dead in her tracks when a loud bang in the backyard takes her by surprise.

It's raining again. A wild storm rages outside, wind blowing against the few windows that still have a glass, carrying with it the guttural noise of the undead. A heavy drop falls against her cheek, then another. Ada cleans them, frowning. When she raises her head up it's not the blood-stained ceiling of the police department what her eyes see, but the dark, gloomy sky.

It's night now but that can't be right, because they have been in there for just a few minutes and it was morning when they entered the building, she is sure of it. The rain intensifies and Ada just stands there, feet rooted to the spot, her blue dress completely wet and clinging to her like a second skin.

There's thunder, and it’s so strong that for a moment it's like a bomb has gone off way too close, leaving her reeling from the shock of it. For a few seconds she can't hear a thing, except for the ringing in her right ear, and when she tries to scream she's unable to.

_Where's Leon when I need him?_

The desperate thought twirls in her head and rings a bell, but Ada doesn't know why. And now the lightning strikes and everything goes white for a while, so white that her eyes hurt, and when she can see again there's nothing but a vast, never-ending darkness. And suddenly Leon is next to her, his uniform covered in blood, his mouth open in a silent scream. There are chunks of flesh missing from his cheeks and left shoulder, where Ada can see the bone peaking, and then the thing that's Leon but at the same time isn’t extends its hand towards her.

 _You did this_. And it's not Leon's voice in her head, but her own, so Ada does the only thing she can, and pulls the trigger.

 

\------

 

Ada comes awake with a gasp, heart pounding, breathing erratic. She lays completely still for a few minutes, blinking until her eyes adjust to the darkness and she is able to recognize the elegant mahogany furniture of the room she’s staying in her Baltimore hotel.

It all comes back to her. She’s been here for two days, because of business she had with a client who finally didn’t show up. It was so hot outside that she ended up deciding to take a nap in her way cooler hotel room, and well. Then that happened.

In her head Ada knows perfectly well it was a nightmare. Not the first one she’s had about Raccoon, probably not the last one she’ll have, but somehow this time it’s different. She’d swear she can still smell the gunpowder of the gun in her hands, see the blood on the walls, feel Leon’s accusing stare on her.

Ada relives the moment when she blew his brains out and a chill goes through her.

It’s ridiculous, she knows that. Leon is alive and well (since their meeting in Spain she has been keeping an eye on his movements) but she can’t shake the absurd fear that something is very wrong.

_(Damn it)_

 

\-----

 

The first thing Ada thinks when she steps into the apartment is that there’s nothing noteworthy about it. It’s quite big and the location is great, sure, but it’s so impersonal and vanilla that nothing in here screams Leon to her.

The truth is she doesn’t know what she was expecting. Maybe photographs on the walls, dirty cups in the sink or badly folded clothes over the couch, but there’s nothing. No disorder at all, just boring, blank walls, no efforts wasted trying to make the place feel like a home.

It makes sense, of course. Taking into account his job, he probably doesn’t spend too much time in here, so why bother. But still.

She crosses the living room, lockpick still in hand, and slides her fingers over the spines of the books on the bookshelf. Nothing remarkable in here either, only a few detective novels that seem to be older than her ( _seriously, Leon)_ , a couple of books about viruses and a Russian dictionary.

“The Cold War never ends,” she mutters, and turns around to find, on a small coffee table under the window, an unopened wine bottle next to an empty glass. She takes it in her hands, curious, and is pleasantly surprised when she reads the label.

“Pinot Noir? Not bad at all, Leon.”

A heatwave has hit DC hard, and it’s hot as hell inside the apartment. Ada fans herself, with a resigned snort, and opens the balcony door to let the night breeze in, still carrying the bottle. It smells like rain and the sky is getting cloudier by the second, so with a little luck maybe they’ll actually get a storm. Feeling the sweat building on her forehead, she can’t think of anything better right now.

Then she hears the key turning in the lock and changes her mind. Definitely, there’s at least one better thing.

Ada uncorks the bottle calmly, humming to herself, and when Leon opens the door she’s pouring some wine in the glass and looks at him with a teasing smile.

“So nice of you to show up. Do you want a little?”

 

\-----

 

“So, are you going to tell me what are you doing here? Besides breaking and entering, that’s it.”

Leon was so not surprised to find her there that Ada was almost disappointed. She shouldn’t be, though—obviously he had also looked into her whereabouts after Spain—but in a way she had hoped to catch him off guard, which was a nice plus to seeing him. Maybe next time, then (and she sure as hell hoped there would be a next time).

She cocks her head and looks at him square in the eyes.

“Well, that’s rude. But at least we’ve been here for two minutes and we still haven’t pointed our guns at each other. That’s progress.”

“Only you would call that progress, Ada.”

His reply comes accompanied by a head shake but Ada can clearly see, in the way his lips press together, that he’s holding back a smile.

_Playing the tough guy?_

Leon enters the living room and drops his keys on the first chair he encounters. With his back to her, Ada seizes the moment to check him out shamelessly. He still looks younger than his age—someone who didn’t know him would probably never guess he’s closer to thirty than twenty— but he’s filled out in all the right places, and _boy_ , is he a sight for sore eyes.

“It’s not that I do not appreciate your visit,” he walks by her and leans on the wall, arms crossed over his chest, “but I’m sure you understand why I’m worried. Whenever you appear, problems follow, so if an army of undead is about to break into the building, just tell me. I’d like to be prepared.”

“Look at the rookie, trying to be funny,” she takes a sip of her wine and closes her eyes for a second, savoring it. So, so good. “Let me ease your mind then: not an army of undead that I know of, no shady deals taking place and definitely no virus outbreak planned. I wouldn’t do that to you on your free day.”

“Thanks, I feel better now. I guess.” He smiles and it hits her like a punch to the gut, especially when her treacherous mind replays scenes of the damn nightmare that brought her here. “Next question then. How did you know where I live and that today is my free day, and why did you come here and drink my wine?”

Still fighting with the nausea brought by the images embedded into her brain, she manages to answer, and she’s quite proud that her internal turmoil is not evident in her voice.

“I have friends in high places.” He gives her a look. “You know that I’m not going to tell you, Leon, so don’t waste your breath. About the other part… well, I was in town and I thought to come and say hi. No hidden intentions here.”

He definitely doesn’t believe her, but in no way is she going to tell the truth. That she got scared for him and felt compelled to see him, to show herself for once outside of work. Maybe the nightmare is just the excuse she’s using to justify that need.

A shrink would have a field day with her.

“About the wine… well, it’s just so good. In fact I’m surprised that you bought this with the salary of a government employee. What are you hiding?”

“I also have friends in high places.”

She snorts and goes out on the balcony, making Leon a sign to follow her. She can see the Dupont Circle on the distance; a nice location indeed.

“I know you’re on a first name basis with the President. He gifted you that Pinot Noir, didn’t he?”

“That he did, a few months ago, on my birthday. Sends me one every year. I guess he’s still trying to clean his conscience about that blackmailing thing, even though it wasn’t his fault.”

Ada looks at him sharply, but he doesn’t elaborate.

“Well, that explains it. You would have never quitted being a cop, not willingly, you were too in love with the idea. But I guess being blackmailed is quite a good reason to do so.”

He arches his eyebrows and stares at her.

“What are you really doing here, Ada?” Again, she doesn’t answer. She can’t. The truth would reveal too much about her and that’s something she can’t allow. Leon shakes his head. “I don’t know why I thought I would get a straight answer this time.”

He turns around, disappointment written on his features, and Ada’s only thinking on stopping him when she speaks again.

“Do you dream about Raccoon, Leon?”

That makes him pause. The muscles in his arms tense and, with a heavy sigh, Leon enters the balcony again, his hands in his pockets and a somber expression on his face.

He leans against the railing. It takes him a few moments to start speaking and, when he does, his voice is flat, as if he is purposely trying not to inject any emotion into his words.

“Every now and then. It’s not as bad as it was the months after everything happened, though. There were some nights that…” He shakes his head, as if trying to keep those thoughts at bay, and looks at her, inquisitive. “Is that why you’re here? Did you have a nightmare?”

Ada knows he’s not mocking her—there's curiosity in his words, mixed with genuine concern. But she can't avoid feeling attacked in a way.

“Now, Leon,” she manages a faint smile and takes another sip of her wine. “There's no point in getting scared because of such petty, ridiculous things, isn't there?”

“Ada.” There's kindness in the way he says her name. Leon's doing it again, seeing more than what she's actually showing to the world. It shouldn't be that fucking easy for him to read her—that gets on her nerves and makes Ada get on the defensive more than she already is.

She takes two, three steps to her right, away from him, then ends up her wine in a gulp and leaves the glass on the floor, just when the clouds decide to make good on their promise to rain. Ada closes her eyes when she feels the first droplets in her skin, an immediate relief from the suffocating heat, and turns back to look at him, her walls in place once again, reinforced with an extra layer of determination.

“Sorry to have bothered you, Leon,” her smile gets wider. “I happened to be in town and thought it would be a good idea to visit… an old friend, but I have an early plane to catch and should be going.”

Her excuse sounds ridiculous and fake even to her own ears. Ada stopped trying to define her relationship with Leon Kennedy ages ago, but she's quite sure ‘old friend’ are not the words she’d use to describe it. Judging by Leon's little smile, he knows it too.

“Are you sticking with that? Really?”

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, then moves back next to him. “We were back in Raccoon and it was raining, because apparently it was never sunny there, and you kind of got… disheveled.”

Leon blinks, slowly.

“What?”

“I know. Awful, isn't it?” She knows she's rambling but she can't stop, like a train about to derail. Ada’s always considered herself to be a resourceful woman but she really doesn't know how to deal with this, with her worry for him and his for her, with the way he gets under her skin even though by no means should he be of any importance to her.

 _And yet_.

“Such beautiful hair. It was hard to watch, you know?” Ada doesn't know what makes her do it, but she raises her hand and brushes a strand of wet hair away from his forehead. And when she talks again she can't keep the joke up, and her voice sounds strangled. “What a damn shame.”

She's about to step away from him ( _too many things at once, just too much_ ) when his right hand shoots forward and grabs her by the wrist.

“Ada. Don’t.”

There's a calm in his words that Ada deeply envies, because right now she feels everything but calm. His grip is firm, but not strong, and Ada knows she could release herself if she wanted.

But she doesn't.

Because his touch is soft, and reassuring, same way it was when he was bandaging her leg in the bowels of a city overrun by zombies, almost six years ago. And Ada aches for that, for the way he anchors her even when she feels unsettled, like today, like then.

In Raccoon City it was difficult for her to come to terms with needing Leon—it's not so difficult now to accept the fact that he's become an itch she can't scratch, that she wants him, despite the alarms blaring in her head and warning her that this is a dangerous enemy she can't fight with a gun or clever wits. While the Leon in her dream was a like a husk, barely human, the real Leon hangs on to her wrist, brimming with life under the pouring rain, and looks at her like she matters. There's something in the way his eyes rest on her face, and it shakes Ada to the core when she realizes that maybe, just maybe, she has the same effect on him that he has on her.

And then he moves, or maybe it's her the one who does, and they meet somewhere in the middle, crashing into each other.

Leon presses his mouth against hers, hard and urgent, while digging his fingers into her waist. Every coherent thought Ada has fades into nothing when his free hand circles the nape of her neck and his fingers thread through her hair, pressing gently against her scalp.

He's careful with her as he always is, but Ada doesn't want careful, because there's fire in her blood and voices in her head that won't shut up (a mistake, the biggest one, no turning back now) and she just wants them to keep quiet for a while.

So she opens her mouth to him and tastes the whisky on his tongue, her left hand moving up and down his back, nails sinking down between his shoulder blades. There's barely any room between them, only for air and rain and useless layers of soaked clothes, and yet Leon manages to wrap his arms and pull her impossibly closer, as if he wants every inch of their bodies touching, melting into each other.

But still it's not enough, not by a long shot, so Ada pushes him against the wall and keeps kissing him, hands roaming over his abdomen and chest, desperate and rushed. And he responds in equal measure, almost as if they had no time left and they were once again running for their lives.

(And maybe, in a way, they are.)

 

\---

 

It’s a little after four in the morning according to the clock on the nightstand when the storm is reduced to a gentle drizzle before stopping altogether, and Ada is already fearing the heat the increased humidity will bring.

She closes her eyes for a moment, feeling the light throbbing in her temples that usually precedes a headache, and then she blinks again, her stare fixed on Leon’s shoulder. Ada raises her hand up and draws with the tip of her index finger the faint lines of the scar, a reminder he will forever bear on his skin of the night when everything started going to shit.

It’s almost poetic she has one too, a mirror of his and a testament to her failure.

“What am I going to do with you, Leon,” she mutters, and moves her hand to his collarbone and neck, hovering over his skin before pulling back with a sigh. Leon is sound asleep, his breathing deep and even, lips slightly parted. It’s hot inside the room and there’s a fine layer of sweat in his forehead, wet hair covering part of his face, and _my god_ he shouldn’t be allowed to be that attractive.

It would certainly make things easier.

Ada gives herself a moment and then disentangles herself from him (his arm around her waist, his leg between hers, all that skin against hers—she really, really doesn’t want to move, but at the same time needs it like breathing). She gets out of bed as silently as she can, so as not to wake him up, and walks towards the balcony. Her dress and underwear are in a heap next to the door, where they got discarded the previous night, and when Ada picks them up she realises that of course they’re still wet from the rain.

 _This should be funny_.

Ada notices the change in his breathing at that precise moment. Her muscles tense and she purses her lips, waiting completely still for a few seconds, and then she can hear the rustling of the sheets and his voice, low and husky and loaded with sleep.

( _He really shouldn’t be allowed._ )

“Were you about to do the walk of shame on me?”

She almost grins at hearing those words and turns to face him. Leon is fully awake now, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth, and looks at her with those piercing blue eyes that see way too much, a reminder of something she seems keen on forgetting—he is dangerous, though in an entirely different way she is used to.

“I was about to walk,” she replies, after considering carefully her answer for a few seconds, “though no shame at all on my part.”

He laughs at that, throwing his head back, and there’s a glint in his eyes when he looks at her again.

“Of course. I almost forgot you have a plane to catch.”

She sighs, leaving unnoticed an impossible thing now, and tilts her head, still clutching her clothes in her hands.

“I didn’t lie about that.”

“I know,” Leon simply replies. “I’ve learnt with time that you don’t lie as much as you… hide the truth when it suits you. Not judging, just to be clear—guess that kind of goes with the job.” He stops talking for a moment and rubs his eyes, tiredly, before sitting up on the bed. Then he studies her, a curiously guarded expression in his face. “You could just stay tonight, you know.”

The alarm she’s feeling must be pretty obvious in her features because he smirks, almost as if he was expecting that reaction.

“Ada, I’m only asking you to stay tonight, not proposing.”

She fights with herself for a few moments, her internal turmoil becoming more intense with each passing second. Ada knows what she should do—run away, forget this happened and put as much distance as possible between them. Only that way she will be able to clear her head and get back on track, because Leon’s too much of a distraction and she's worried about what long term exposure to him will mean for her.

She knows all that and yet she can't manage to refuse.

“Fine. But if you really are proposing, I will accept nothing less than Elvis and Priscilla.”

 

\---

 

Ada runs her fingers over the skin on his sides and knows he's awake when she listens to his sharp intake of breath. She doesn't look at him and trails with her fingertips the shape of his ribs and the smooth lines of the muscles in his stomach, finding a few scars scattered here and there. Some of them are new, some not that much, but there's one that strikes her attention, next to his ribcage, longer and more recent than the others.

Ada rises her head up and looks at him, inquisitively. He's staring at her and it takes a while for him to answer.

“A licker in Germany about one month ago. It… wasn't pretty.”

She guesses it mustn't have been—the scar tells her the wound was deep and probably bled a lot. She traces it with the pad of her fingers, shaking her head, and can't avoid a mirthless laugh.

“Our lives are so fucked up.”

“I really don't know what makes you say that.”

Ada smiles again and falls silent, right hand splayed on his chest, eyes half-closed. His heartbeat is strong under her fingers and its steady rhythm lulls her to sleep. She feels drained and bone tired, as if she hadn't rested well in ages, and maybe that's the truth—since Raccoon City her life has become a never-ending nightmare full of monsters that won't give her a moment of respite.

She then feels his arm circling her waist and pulling her towards him. Ada doesn't resist, too exhausted to even protest, and rests her forehead against his chest while his hands move over her back and hips, caressing her ever so lightly she could very well be imagining his touch.

She allows herself a moment to reflect about their current situation. She didn't lie to Leon when he asked her about why she had come to DC—she really wanted to see him, despite knowing that it was probably a very bad idea. It’s something that seems to happen way too often, Ada doing something that doesn't sound like her when he's involved, and it worries her, this weakness she has for him.

She's not in love with him, she knows that much. But if she's honest with herself she could very well end up being, given time, and that kind of attachment is beyond dangerous in their line of work.

Sex is an entirely different matter. After all, it's only a combination of chemistry and physics with a little bit of madness and a lot of fun, though in their case the proverbial spark is more like a burning, raging fire. She can feel it now in the way her body reacts to his, in the subtle hitching of his breath whenever she touches him. Ada can manage that, at least for now, although she has the nagging feeling that if this night were to be repeated, things would get complicated on the long run (because with Leon it would always be more than sex).

His voice, warm on her skin, takes her out of her reverie.

“Have you ever thought about what would happen if things were different? No virus, no undead, no gambling your life every time you accept a new job.”

She looks at Leon. He's changed a lot over the years, not only physically. But in moments like this, in the way he asks that question, Ada sees again the rookie cop she met in Raccoon City, way too young, way too idealistic, way too filled with hope, and she's glad he has managed to hold on to that part of himself.

“Honestly, no.” Ada has felt the longing for a normal, boring life occasionally, for the bliss that ignorance would bring. But they were passing thoughts, and she never dwelled on them for too long. “Wondering about the what ifs never helped anyone, Leon. We are who we are.”

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s just there are times when...” Leon falls silent then, and shakes his head, lips curving in a little smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

She wonders about his job, about that Germany thing he doesn't explain, about Spain and the President’s daughter and about everything he has done during these years that has killed his soul, one little piece at a time.

Fucked up indeed.

Ada pinches his side, softly, and throws her right leg over his hips to sit on his lap, then rests her hands on his abdomen to balance herself.

“When you get bored of working for the government, give me a call. We'll find something for you, after all, we make a good team.”

“I don't know how, since I don't have a number to call you.” He chuckles, moving his hands up her thighs, and then counters. “When you get bored of working as a mercenary, give me a call. Maybe it won't be that bad, you working for the good guys for once.”

She laughs at that as if he had said the funniest thing ever.

“The good guys, Leon? Really? Do you mean the ones who bombed Raccoon City and then blackmailed you into becoming a secret agent? Let me tell you something: there's only one good guy in this story, and he's not the one you're working for.”

Leon stops moving his hands over her legs and then looks at her, studying her face, and when he talks again there's something in his voice, in the way he says the words, that makes her breath catch.

“You're not half bad yourself, you know.” Then he sits up, circling her back with his arms to keep her in place, and kisses her just under the line of the jaw. “I'm well aware that I would be dead without you, so thank you for showing up to save my ass.”

Ada closes her eyes and her arms wrap around his neck almost on their own volition. His chest pressed against hers, that five o'clock shadow scratching her cheek, his breath on her skin. This closeness is intoxicating and she wants, needs, more of it.

“Don't thank me. That is a damn fine ass to save.”

He laughs and then his hands are cradling her face and he kisses her, deep and urgent, his thumbs grazing her earlobes. Ada tangles her fingers in his hair and pulls him towards her, biting his lower lip, and thinks this is an accident waiting to happen but, at least for now, that’s ok.

 

\------

 

It’s still dark outside when Ada leaves the apartment, her perfume and a handwritten note over the table the only traces of her presence. Even though he still can feel in his skin the touch of her hands and her mouth, even though every cell in his body is asking him to stop her, Leon feigns sleep and lets her go.

It’s complicated, this thing between them. He remembers her in Raccoon City—a strong, resolute woman who managed to fascinate him in such a way that he held on to his memory of her for years, despite thinking her dead. Finding out she survived, and later meeting her again in Spain, was such a shock that sometimes he is sure he’ll never stop reeling from it.

Leon fixes his stare on the ceiling, counts to ten and then gets up, walking to the balcony to close the door. On his way back to the bed he picks the note up and unfolds it to read.

It consists of only four words, written in lipstick.

_“See you soon, rookie”_

He smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> The quote at the beginning is from The X-Files (episode 2x12 - Aubrey)


End file.
